Genki!
by Fallaby Z
Summary: They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and for Aomine, it's certainly true. So when clumsy, can't-cook-to-save-her-life Momoi begins to bring him mouthwatering lunches in exchange for attending practice, he starts to get curious: just who is this mystery chef, and why are these lunches so addicting? AominexOC


**A/N: Well...guess who's back with a renewed attempt at a KNB fanfic? I know, I know, I should be updating Pixis's Granddaughter, but the dang chapter is being really annoying to write because I have to go back and look at the manga to confirm some of the conversations that take place...but I promise it'll be out soon!**

**I've had this particular idea in my head for a while and always wanted to try and execute it. This story takes place in Aomine's senior year; I haven't really decided how he'll change, but expect some non-canon character development in the future.**

* * *

1: Tonkatsu Curry

**Aomine**

The last time Satsuki tried to cook, she nearly burnt her house down. Her kitchen was ruined and smelled of smoke for a week, and the Momoi family had ended up crashing at his house until the kitchen repairs were finished.

The thing was, Satsuki was so thickheaded and stubborn that she refused to give up on her complete, utter lack of culinary ability. From last year's Valentine's chocolates to that one time she attempted to make a so-called Genki Bento for the basketball championships, every single one of her attempts to produce something edible failed miserably. _Especially_ the Genki Bento.

It was so bad that she burst into tears after he chewed her out in front of Kuroko and the rest of the team; honestly, was she _trying_ to kill him?

Aomine did feel a little remorse for his harsh words afterwards, but really, he had been let down after weeks and weeks of listening to her nonsensical prattle about how good the lunch was going to be, how much she'd improved, and her incessant "_Dai-chan, you're going to love it_"s.

"_After eating my Super Special Genki Bento, you and everyone else are going to power-up! I made it with all organic ingredients and with lots of protein and veggies..."_

Power-up? More like instant death. It had been nearly four years since the incident, and the taste still didn't leave the back of his tongue. Aomine shivered in the cool fall breeze; even the thought of the vile dish made him queasy.

So it was reasonable for Aomine to act like a fire had been lit under his ass when Satsuki came running up to him carrying a large thermal container with an extra-large smile on her face. "Come to practice, Aomine-kun, and I'll give you this in exchange!"

"Get that poison away from me or I'll throw it off the roof," Aomine threatened, backing away carefully as Satsuki persisted forward.

"It's not bad, I promise!" she whined, extending her arms so Aomine could see the inside of the box through the clear plastic cover.

"That's what you said last time," the tall basketball player yelled, wondering if he should make a break for it or not. He'd be able to escape easily now, that was for sure, but then she'd tattle on him to his older sister and—well, things would not go over very nicely after that.

He decided instead to use his arts of verbal persuasion, which despite being rusty from lack of use, were still relatively intact. "Satsuki, don't you remember the last time you tried to cook? Half the team got food poisoning, remember?" Okay, so maybe his rhetoric needed some work. But could anyone blame him? He was a basketball player, not a poet.

"Gosh, I didn't make it, okay?!" Satsuki sighed, exasperated for a fleeting moment before her face brightened once more. The girl couldn't stay downtrodden for more than thirty seconds. Cracking open one corner of the lid, she lifted the container up towards his nose. "See, doesn't it smell good?"

_She didn't make it?_ Instantly, the tension in his shoulders loosened. He sniffed the air. It _did_ smell remarkably delicious, like...

"Tonkatsu curry?"

Satsuki grinned gleefully, and Aomine cursed inwardly. She did know all of his favorite foods, and she was smart enough to use it against him. Damn it all, whatever was in that lunchbox was smelling better and better by the minute. His stomach growled, and he glanced behind him at his bag, where a bag of cold, half-squashed melon bread was waiting for him.

Warm tonkatsu curry. _Much better than cold, squishy, too-sweet bread._ But good enough to make him go to practice? Doubtful.

Sensing his internal turmoil, Satsuki took another step forward and ripped off the lid entirely. Aomine nearly staggered back as the overwhelmingly delicious smell of lunch wafted through the air.

_Good mother of God..._

"It's your favorite," she wheedled, dangling the box under his nose. "And it's _fresh_."

The pork cutlets looked so crispy, the curry smelled like perfection, and the rice practically glistened in the box. They were calling out to him. How could he not resist?

Wait, what? Was he a four-year-old or something? He was nearly out of high school; he could resist this once. Struggling to maintain his composure, Aomine bit back a moan as he wrenched his mind back to reality. His stomach rumbled its complaint once more.

_Fine, stomach it is._ He snatched the box out of her hands, took one last deep, lingering whiff, and began shoveling it down his throat. "Just today," he reminded her, pieces of rice spilling from his open mouth.

_Oh God, this is so good._

She snatched the box away from him firmly, smirking when she saw the forlorn expression on his face. "One week."

Aomine paused, clearly sizing up his options. Practice wasn't such a big deal, anyway. It was more a pain than anything. Piece of cake. "Sure, whatever."

Satsuki smiled knowingly, like she had a big secret.

_Just this week. No more._ Aomine chewed on the pork slowly, savoring its taste.

* * *

**Minami**

Satsuki slid into her seat with an extra bounce in her step and a wide smile on her face. Minami greeted her seatmate with a knowing smirk. "I take it everything went well?"

Satsuki nodded, grabbing the young girl's hands excitedly. "Yes! He fell for it completely. Thank you so much!"

The girl detached her hands from Satsuki's grip calmly. "I told you, there is no one in the world that can resist my food," Minami sniffed proudly. "I _do_ hail from a family of chefs, after all."

She leaned forward in anticipation, her voice lowering. It was nearing the end of lunch, and their classmates were milling about the room, oblivious, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Especially when it came to money.

"And the payment?"

"Well, about that..." Satsuki grinned sheepishly. "I sort of have to take it from the club budget, and I have to cut through some red tape for that to happen, but I _promise_ I'll get it to you by the end of the week!"

The demure smile slid promptly off the young girl's face, and she scowled, hazel eyes glittering with contempt. "You said _today_."

"I'm sorry!" Clapping her hands together, Satsuki tried to look apologetic. "I thought it'd be easy, but the coach is kind of a hassle to deal with. Even if it _is_ for Aomine-kun."

"I need the money, _now_," Minami barked, folding her arms stoutly. "If I want to get into Todai, I need to study a lot. Exam preparation books don't pay for themselves, you know!"

"I'll get the money to you, I promise!" Satsuki moaned. "God, why do you have to be such a scrooge?"

"It comes with being poor," the girl sniffed, unconcerned for the basketball manager's distress. "It's hard, you know, helping out at the restaurant, managing an elite tutoring service, _and_ studying your ass off at night."

Satsuki sighed. "You're such a bitch. I don't even know why I'm friends with you."

"You value me for my skill set," she replied smoothly, her hand dipping into her blazer pocket to whip out a handheld calculator. "And I value you for yours."

With an experienced ease, she tapped out a series of numbers onto the calculator and showed it to her friend. "Well, now that the trial lunch has been successful, here's my asking price for the rest of the month. I'll make him one lunch every Monday. Small requests are okay, but I'm not going to go all out for him, so no complaining."

Pursing her lips, Satsuki subtracted a number from the amount. "How about that much?"

Minami grimaced. She pressed another series of buttons. "Final offer."

"Deal." They shook hands firmly.

"And remember, no one hears a word about this," Minami reminded the pink-haired girl sternly.

Satsuki rolled her eyes as the bell rang and the students filed into their seats. "Why are you so particular about keeping _that_ a secret? Your food is so good! You could make a fortune with a restaurant business."

"Look, I may be a goddess of cooking, but I want to be a corporate CEO in the future," Minami replied, her voice lowering to a hiss. "Emphasis on _corporate_. If word gets out that I'm making lunches for some butch basketball player, my reputation's going to go down the drain!"

The basketball manager shook her head, sighing. "You money hog. And Aomine-kun is not _butch_."

"He's twice as tall as me and probably weighs four times as much," Minami retorted, taking out her notebook and dating the page at the top neatly. "If that isn't butch, I don't know what is."

"You're just absurdly small."

"Oh, shut up. If you don't get me my money by Friday, the deal's off."

* * *

For a total moneygrubber, Minami was incredibly thorough when it came to her work. Her customers got their money's worth; Shougo Minami was taught from an early age to never cut corners. If it had her name on it, it _had_ to be perfect.

Her tutoring services were stellar, if a bit pricey, and she often was hired by rich families to tutor their often-struggling children. She was famous for making scarily predictive study guides for midterms and finals, which also, of course, came with a fee. Minami wasn't on the student council, and she certainly was lacking when it came to social manners, but she had two important figures at her disposal: the student council president, through blackmail, and Momoi Satsuki, the academy's darling, through a series of unexpected but welcome events.

Minami and Satsuki's friendship was tenuous at best. In fact, Shougo Minami didn't have "friends". She had business partnerships.

Oh, her parents certainly disapproved of her cynical, materialistic view on life. "You're off to become one of those damn scheming politicians, aren't you?" her father had bemoaned many a time. "Taking advantage of people, embezzling funds...why can't you just make friends like normal kids?"

"I won't become a politician," she would always promise. "They get caught far too easily." She had no answer, however, to the second question.

Minami had always wondered if she were adopted, and for good reason: physically, she was dwarfed by both her parents, who were tough and muscular with big hands, perfect for cooking. Personality-wise, they couldn't have been more different.

Shougo's Kitchen, their humble restaurant tucked away on a side street, was an honest business that had gained their reputation through good food, large portions, and low prices. Minami had argued tirelessly to raise the costs on their food (100 yen for a huge plate of fried rice? Really?), but her parents strongly believed in generosity. As a result, they barely broke even every month, despite the large influx of customers that came in daily, and life at home wasn't easy, especially for Minami, who had her eyes set high on the corporate ladder.

Still, Shougo's Kitchen was basically her parents' first child, and Minami was obligated through some absurd familial piety to keep it alive, even though she didn't get any income from working and could spend her time doing better things. Her one stipulation was that she spent her time hidden inside the actual kitchen, cooking, rather than out serving and potentially revealing herself to classmates.

Cooking for large amounts of people wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't any easier for Minami, who was apparently a premature baby and was short, squat, and underdeveloped. But she was stubborn, and she was still part of the Shougo family. Anything that had the Shougo name on it had to be perfect. And according to her righteous father, willpower was the main ingredient for success.

She agreed with him for the most part, which was why she found herself promoted to assistant chef since the age of thirteen while her older brother, Tamaki, was still only a busboy and dishwasher when he wasn't working as an idol manager. _Of all things. Dear Lord._

Anyway, despite her lack of ethics, Minami certainly was honest when it came to the quality of her work (and perhaps a little too obsessed with being perfect), which is why she ended up making a fifty-page packet profiling one Aomine Daiki.

Satsuki had paid her to make good food for the basketball player in order to bring him back on the court. Minami could make good food with her eyes closed, but the problem was keeping him interested.

As she studied her packet, complete with color-coding and sticky notes, at three AM, she came to a conclusion: more analysis was needed. All her information had been gleaned from the internet or by word of mouth, via Satsuki. No, it wasn't enough. She needed to see this guy up close without blowing her cover.

Minami paused in her thoughts, reaching across her desk to switch off her light. Was the extra effort really worth it? College entrance exams were quickly approaching, and she couldn't be distracted. Todai was waiting for her. Life as a rich businesswoman was waiting for her. She just needed to cook, not write a lab report.

But her pride was also at stake.

After a moment's consideration, Minami shrugged and kept the light on.

She _was_ a senior now. She could afford to have a little fun once in a while. Besides, Shougo Minami was the smartest girl at school, and Aomine Daiki was just a butch basketball player. There was no way he could go up against her, much less win.

Minami was sure of it.

* * *

**A/N: So yeah. Basically, I wanted to write something that had to do with food and had a socially awkward, shrewd, miserly 80-year-old man in the body of a 17-year-old girl. Let me know what you think.**


End file.
